



^: f- r ^^' !• ;.•■'v- 




SEQUENCE OF THIRTY-ONE SONNETS 



ENTITLED 



"'English Bards 



AND 



Scotch Review^ers' 

Up-to-Date" 



BY 



JOHN ARMSTRONG CHALONER 



AUTHOR OF 



"SCORPIO" 



PALMETTO PRESS: 

RoANOKS Rapids, North Carolina 

Nineteen Hundred and Fifteen 

TWENTY-FIVE CENTS 



^'V 






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Copyright 
Palmetto Press 
1915. 



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'CI.A414125 



English Bards and Scotch Reviewers 



"AMien knaves and fools combin'd o"er all prevail, 

When jiisti(?e halts, and right begins to fail; 

E'en then the boldest start from public sneers, 

Afraid of shame, unkno^vn to other fears, 

More darkty sin, by satire kept in awe, 

And shrink from ridicule, though not from law. 

The time has been when no harsh sound w^ould fall, 

From lips that now may seem imbued with gall; 

Xor fools nor follies tempt me to despise 

The meanest thing that erawPd beneath my eyes; 

But now so callous grown, so chang'd since youth, 

I've learn 'd to think, and sternly speak the truth; 

Learn'd to deride the critic's starch decree, 

And break him on the icheel he meant for me/ 

To spurn the rod a scribbler bids me kiss. 

Nor care if courts and crowds applaud or hiss; 

Nay more, though all my rival rhymsters frown, 

I too can hunt a poetaster down, 

And, arm'd in proof, the gauntlet cast at once." 

At '-Joey" Pulitzer and "Mo. Tel." Dunce. 

— Lord Bvron. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



I. 



Lord Byron in thy footsteps must we tread 

Foul old New York hath put her foot in it 

xlnd on our work a flood of lies hath shed 

Full laughable tho' all devoid of wit. 

So as you "trimmed" the critics of the day 

And made them sweat and writhe and "hunt their hole" 

The same shall w^e essay in pungent lay 

As we of Gotham's papers take our toll. 

The difference is this 'twixt us and thee 

Thine enemies were men-of-letters all! 

Whereas the scurvy crew who malign me 

Have for sole capital foul lies and gall. 

Fair Metre's law to New York's a closed book 

In which her Yahoos never once did look. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TODATE 



II. 



When our first play in blank verse put we forth 
We were at pains to shoAv authority 
^Vhy we did dare East, West, and South and North 
To spread our sails and show our quality. 
Why WQ did dare the "Swan of Avon's" Main — 
The Magic Sea that Shakspeare made his own — 
To launch our barque thereon and plough amain 
Since to her airs our sails we'd daring thrown. 
We showed that we had captured Marlowe's line — 
To all at least who what that line is know — 
Chapter and verse thereon spread we, in fine, 
A net which spelled for ignorance cold woe. 
With one exception all did dodge the net 
And by their silence strove the play t' forget. . 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



III. 



The one exception was "Mo. Telegraph" 

That Pirate fired a shot that missed us quite 

Tried to be funny but called up no laugh 

Just showed its ignorance and petty spite. 

The other papers dumb as oysters were 

Upon our play "The Hazard Of The Die" — 

Acted as tho' they were afraid of her 

And in smooth silence gave her the "go-by." 

Our other play "Eobbery Under Law" 

They wide reviewed hut nothing did they say! 

Eeviews more empty we never never saw 

Each cracked its paltry joke but dodged the play ! 

The reason is not very far to seek 

'Twas this. All vengeance on us aimed to wreak. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



IV. 



We'd torn the mask from off New York's foul face 

In our most pungent sonnets "Scorpio Two" 

Proving her prostitute — in foul disgrace — 

Her Lunacy Laics cause W Common Law to rue! 

We showed her papers were a Pirate band — 

Bloody banditti of the baSer sort 

Lewd fellows who, while porting smile most bland 

The property of foreigners deep court. 

They back up laws that lure the stranger there — ■ 

From other States — and there imprison him 

And rob him of his money with suave air 

And a foul Madhouse for life throw him in. 

Although the vidimus sane as sane can he 

And all the charges hased on perjury! 



8 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



V. 



We knew that papers were not God's elect 

We knew that papers very human are 

But Gotham's papers did we ne'er suspect 

Of being with phiin justice at foul war! 

We did not think that they would aim t' hush up 

A scandal that struck at the root of things 

A scandal that of Sin doth fill the cup 

And in its train New York's damnation brings. 

But as Ave live and look we live and learn 

The depth of sin that New York doth stand for , 

And how she hotly, Hellishly, doth yearn 

To of her reck'ning tot the foulest score! 

A TThodern jSoclofn is she shown thereby^ 

Who solely draws the 'line at — sodomy. f 



tWe refer here solely to the newspapers of New York who one 
and all by their silence have become sharers in the crime perpetrated 
against "Who's Looney Now?" March 13, 1897. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TODATE 



VI. 



'Tis not surprising then that Sodomites — 

Inhabitant of Sodom's meant thereby — f 

No wonder 'tis each Sodomite delijo'hts 

About our plays to lie, and lie, and lie. 

No wonder 'tis that they them foul malign 

And lie about them till their ink runs di*y 

No wonder then that we on them condi^^n 

Punishment by our pen do swift apply! 

We'll silence them forever with this lay 

Their backs our Scorpion pen shall cause to bleed 

Till in their inmost souls they'll yell : "Belay ! 

'Who's-Looney-Now ?' hath scourged us all he need." 

The New York papers thus have got the gaff — 

There yet remain the "World" and "Telegraph." 



tThe newspapers solely are meant as above explained. 



10 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWElRS UP-TO-DATE 



VII. 

The "World" put forth a windy little screed 

Full of "hot air" and most crass ignorance 

A little study doth her "critic" need 

Before he on our plays dare look askance. 

He simply copied th'aforesaid review 

Smirching the pages of "Mo. Telegraph" 

Copied a little — added much thereto 

Aimed in the author to insert the gaff. 

But 'twas as tho' a little yellow cur 

A marble statue foul doth desecrate 

And vilely spurted sans the least demur 

"Bum" jokes had found a lodgment in his pate. 

A weaker effort have we never seen 

Enough to make Joe Pulitzer turn green ! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 11 



VIII. 

For "Joe" — with all his faults was no fresh fool 

The late Himg avian patriot we mean — 

And never clicl "Joe" play with a dull tool 

When "Joey" cut the blood was ever seen ! 

So we did sigh, and say: "Is that the best 

The New York 'World' can turn out as a 'roast'! 

Such thing's as that will hinder 'Joey's' rest 

And cause to curse and rave his fiery ghost!" 

AVe sigh once more as we it bid farewell — 

For forty years the New York "World" we've ta'en- 

Sajdng: "Your columns much too strong do smell 

Of buncombe-lies for us to read again!" 

We now shall turn to the "Mo. Telegraph" 

And make that sheet its dose of med'cine ouafi'. 



12 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



IX. 



That racing "tout*' hath for the nonce turned pimp — 

Turned pimp and pander for our enemies — 

The rich on t'other side whoVe played the imp 

Played Hell with Truth and wound us with their lies. 

Those lies — like Gulliver — w^e straight burst thro' 

And their Liliputian carcasses did scourge 

TOien — making our escape — we our pen drew 

And "Scorpio" their many crimes, did urge. 

The dunce who wields the critic's fertile pen — 

Fertile of humbug, lies, and ignorance — 

Him of the "Morning Telegraph" — we'll pen 

And impound in's own lies — and at a glance! 

'Tis easy when the mark's such "eas}^ fruit" 

To nothing say of 's being such a brute ! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 13 



X. 



This clown starts out with a most rattling lie — 
Says in plain w^ords we cannot write blank verse 
And aims to back his malice helplessly 
Showing an ignorance that's even Avorse ! 
The greatest work on English Prosody — 
A work that's monumental in its reach — 
By the deep learn'd Professor Saintsbury — 
For that epochal w^ork, lo we now reach. 
His "History Short of Lit'rature"' also — 
Of English Lit'rature, of course we mean — 
For this same clown will spell a Hell-black woe 
That we've 'wHt hy the caret is therein seen. 
Training New York's wild critics is our task 
Savage Yahoos who in vile ignorance bask! 



14 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XI. 



This ignoramus — if he'll dip therein — 

Will find the magic word "Equivalence." 

Which purgeth us of our alleged sin — 

Putting a Spondee for an Iamb! Hence 

Thus we infer he never yet hath heard 

That one may change his "feet" at one's sweet will 

Provided that each winged measured word 

Doth the requirements of strict Metre fill. 

Thus Trochee, Dactyl, Anapaest, Spondee 

The place o' th' ruling Iamb eke may take 

By doing which Variety we see 

Raising her dainty head and music make! 

The Dunce's Cap we thereby on thee place 

And label: "Left at th' post!" in Critic's Race. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TODATE 15 



XII. 

Thy next gross lie is that our verses "creak." 

In saving that you prove yourself an ass — 

Yery wild-ass whose ear for music's weak! 

For hoAY — thou Jackass — could that come to pass? 

If so be that the Laws of Prosody 

We always ever strictly do obey 

Where findest thou the face for such a lie 

That our verse' winged feet "creak" as they plajM 

A creaking line doth Prosody abhor 

And Jcills, the same and will not let it live 

Sa^dng : "If thou wilt sing but to my score 

My rules to thee will sweet resilience give." 

That have we done in each and every case 

N'er may one find a foot that's out of place! 



16 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XIII. 

A Golden Eagle shall we freely give 

For any line of our's that will not scan — 

Bearing in mind that "fragment verse" doth live 

And form a part of Prosody's grand plan. 

By "fragment verse" of course, mean we that one 

That of the Decasyllabon is short — 

Authority for that is amply shown 

By Saintsbury in the sweet Muse's court. 

And that from time to time Alexandrine 

May show her stately head in pomp and state. 

Also the "Trisyllabic foot" we ween 

With "Equivalence" as variant doth mate. 

The Laws of Prosody we've thus displayed 

To be tried by them are we not afraid ! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 17 



XIV. 

But when a gang of savage foul Yahoos — 

New York's crass critics — aim our work to weigh — 

The far-famed '^Death-Watclv'' — why, we calm refuse 

Their raucous voice of ignorance t'obey. 

Plays in blank verse are rather o'er the head 

Of such half-baked unlearned barbarians 

Prose play they mm/ know — when that's said alVs said — 

Barring the lies of said vulgarians. 

And after all it is full far from strange 

That blank-verse play surpasseth their purvieAv 

How oft doth blank- verse play come in their range? 

Hoio often hlank-verse play do they revieic! 

They scarcely see one in an hundred years 

Whence cometh food for thought and cause for tears. 



18 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XV. 

"Mo. Tel." is now "hoist by its own petard" 
The duffer shows his ignorance full plain 
A prvnter^s error plain as broken shard 
This ignoramrms doth mahe o'^er again! 
The word is "Hycran" — no sueh word exists! 
'^Hyrcan'^ we wrote — the printer got it wrong— 
"Mo. Tel." all ignorant o' th' printer^s twists 
Swallows vile "Hycran" and then moves along! 
He even doth expatiate thereon — 
"Where ignorance is bliss" — the saying's old— 
Dwells on "t'Hycranian beast" and thereupon 
His ignorance of "Hamlet" doth show bold ! 
Enough to make Shakspeare turn in his grave 
To hear "critic" so-called so monstrous rave! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 19 



XVI. 

''^THycvanian beast" also •doth raise a ''kick" 
Because from time to time we cut down "the" 
And the same use by way of enclitic — 
Thus joined to the precedmg word you see. 
Well now, this wild ass loses sight of that — 
His ear's so long and rank it can't him guide — 
And thinks he's caught us in an error j)C[t 
And thinking so doth us e'en wild deride! 
His last lie cloetli with fierce "Scorpio" — 
Calleth those sonnets hot, forsooth, "a play" 
Their only flay''s inhere tlv '^Scarlet Women^^ show 
To ich4t foul pass New Yorh hath come to-day. 
Thus have we pricked the bubble of his screed 
And shown "Mo. Tel." of leamino: hath sore need ! 



20 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XVII. 

"By shifting the incidence of accent a playwright not only ani- 
mates his verse and produces agreeable changes in the rhythm; but 
he also marks the meaning of his words, and yields opportunities for 
subtly modulated declamation to the actor." "Shakspeare's Predeces- 
sors In The English Drama," by John Addington Symonds, Author of 
"Studies Of Greek Poets," "Renaissance In Italy," "Sketches In Italy 
and Greece," etc., pp. 585, et seq. 

"Mo. Tel's." wild ass doth now e'en bray amain 

Because we follow Marlowe's mighty w^ay — 

Shift the accent as Symonds doth explain — 

And English' grand variety displaj^ 

One 'd think from 's noise that we had stol'n his Avatch — 

His worthy "Ingersoll"^ — and then made oft' — 

Since "th'incidence of accent" he cloth catch 

Us following — he raiseth such a scoff! 

We wonder where such ignorance was born 

In what stray country hamlet he saw light 

That he disports himself so all forlorn 

When 't comes to th' point if we our plays write right. 

It takes all sorts of fools to make a world 

Hence "Mo. Tel's." fool is in Life's maelstrom whirl'd. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEIWBRS UP-TO-DATE 21 



XYIII. 

We note our little friend hath nought to say 
Against our play per se—not one sole word! 
He dare not say we cannot Avrite a play 
For on its face said lie would be absurd. 
Nought 'gainst th' construction of our play says he 
Her "carpentry" is sound — he hnoios that's so — 
KnoAvs that she moves as tho' dread Destiny 
Stood at the helm and made her "action" go! 
No whisper do we hear 'gainst th' characters — 
That they're not true to History or Life — 
As true as History — th'author avers 
And true as Life in Psychologic strife. 
Her action is so swift it "grips" the heart — 
So tragic that it makes the tears to start. 



22 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XIX. 

That is to say in those who love brave deeds — 

Who love heroic action on the stage — 

Where Life's fair flowers tower o'er base weeds! 

And where heroic passion free doth rage. 

Fair Cleopatra's shoAvn as ne'er before — 

She holds for aye the centre of the boards — 

Whilst in her dark heart we delve and bold explore 

The secrets 'neath her mask she covert hoards! 

From Avon's Bard a glimpse we solely get 

Simply because he chose but that to give. 

When her we drew we did not e'er forget 

The Psychologic age in which we live. 

Let no foul critic note hegin to lie 

And say that we with Shakspeare dare to vie ! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIE^VBRS UP-TODATE 23 



XX. 

That mighty Monarch of all Tragedy 
Lived when Psychology ^Yas scarcely known 
We mean Psychology succinct — per se 
Standing apart, erect, and all alone. 
Science and Art do thus go hand-in-hancl 
All like two lovers thro' the world they fare 
Art with her fairy touch — her woman's hand — 
Making stern dark-browed Science almost fair! 
Of Caesar too show we the inmost soul — 
That tempest-tossed, care-worn, ambitious man- 
Straining for fifty years towards the goal 
That from his j^outh he did unerring scan ! 
In Shakspeare's steps do we all humbly tread 
And from his divine font are our springs fed. 



24 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XXI. 

For sev'nteen years have we in fair and foul 

Studied his line in humble reverence. 

Working at dead of night like any owl 

Leaning on Shakspeare — drawing strength from thence. 

A thousand sonnets — ^^more or less^ — we've done — 

A thousand columns for our Muse's Halls — 

Since Shakspeare — bear in mind — are we the one 

The only one Ms Form -of- Sonnet calls ! 

His Muse is ours^ — She called us o'er the waste 

That spreads her terrors o'er three hundred years 

And bid us Her Pierian waters taste 

I' th' shadoAv of black Hell and Death her fears — 

All in a Mad-House foul our Muse was bom 

A sullen keeper her midwife forlorn ! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 25 



XXII. 

The miglit}^ Sonneteers of History — 
The great Italians — and Milton, Wordsworth, Keats- 
Did choose th'Italian form's sweet witchery 
In which the dying- fa 11 its glor}^ meets. 
In which the murmur o' th* receding wave 
Follows the crashing of its onward rush 
And soft as lip of woman doth th' marge lave 
Whilst dying murmurs do its egress hush. 
In Shakspeare's onh^ — in the icorid ctlone! 
Is furious on-rush o' th'ocean heard 
In his form do the billows deep intone 
The power and grandeur o' th'English word ! 
Hence do we say his Muse and ours are one 
Our sonnets port the same diapason. 



26 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XXIII. 

For fourteen years our work at times was rough — 

At others smooth as wave cresting to boom — 

Thereafter, "Presto!" did we roughness slough 

So now smooth 's columns do our sonnets loom ! 

Each foot's Iambic save when we for cause 

Do hold in preference another foot 

In doing Avhich we stand upon the clause 

"Equivalence" — Prosody's fair oif-slroot. 

Thus are we now Past-Master of our Craft — 

We think we've worked full long enough — donH you? 

Master of Sonnet- S word from point to haft 

And with the sonnet what — toe — will can do 

"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon" 'tis 

Thro' enemy thews doth its fierce edge whizz ! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TODATE 27 



XXIV. 

A secret dh"e we now to th' world convey 
Which is th© cause why we do now aspire 
To write the blank verse drama — three- act play- 
It showeth how that Art Ave did acquire. 
Beloved brethren — and sisters sweet also — 
Shakspearian sonnet is dread Drama) s womb! 
Not the Italian form — that's Action's w^oe 
Of Drama that sweet form is Juliet's tomb ! 
The secret's this — give ear my worthy friends — 
Shakspeare^s consecutives are pure — hlanh — verse! 
The lines consecutive have all blank ends 
The closing couplet sole doth th' rule reverse. 
A thousand sonnets — fourteen thousand lines 
MaJce th'^ author Blank-Verse-Writer he opines! 



28 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TODATE 



XXV. 

A New York critic's stock-in-trade is lies 

Arm him ivith them, and he will face the world! 

For lie well knows no reader ever tries 

To pierce the clouds of dust by their lies curled. 

A well placed lie is very strong indeed — 

Can lay the Truth low almost any time 

Provided a newspaper doth the deed 

For who can then 'fend Truth from foul rapine? 

The lie goes forth and is b}^ thousands read 

The lies goes forth — by thousands is believed 

Who of its readers cares who's heart is bled 

Who cares how many others are deep grieved? 

So long as they lie well within the law 

A lie is strong as Truth — as full sans flaw! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 29 



XXVI. 

But one exception to said rule is found 

"Tis when him lied about's a Satirist 

Whose veins spurt vitriol upon a wound 

Nor tears e'er dim his icy eye we wist. 

'Tis then the biter is most sorely bit 

'Tis then the catcher doth a Tartar catch 

The Satirist him calmly then doth spit 

Upon his pen and outside hangs the latch ! 

Inviting other liars to come on 

And lie about him to their heart's desire 

Sticking their carcasses his sword upon 

He slowly turns and "roasts" them by his fire., 

So push thy foul pens fast as they can fly 

We'll spit ye all and by our hot fire fry ! 



30 EiXGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



xxyii. 

We "roasted" you so brown in "Scorpio Two" 

No single Gothamite had word to say 

When we with "roasting" you had eke got through 

Silence of Death did shroud that roundelay! 

Not a New York newspaper had a line 

In answer to our vitriolic verse 

Tho' doubtless ye in privacy didst whine 

Tho' doubtless us ye sulphurotis didst curse. 

Flat as a field of turnips laid we you 

Flat as a turnip field — flat as a plate — 

"Tis "eas}^" for us Gotham's press to "do" 

So eas}^ we need not expatiate. 

Ye rogues ye know when master ye have found 

So of your lies swift halted the foul round ! 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 31 



XXVIII. 

But we've no time to waste on such as ye — 

'Tis throwing pearls before "razor-back'' hog — 

So we shall now our ledger henceforth free 

From "writing up" ye swine in our rhymed log. 

These lambent sonnets sure will lay ye low^ — 

Flat on thy backs and gasping strong for breath 

As flat as ye were laid by "Scorpio" — 

That name Avhich spells for newspapers JjIckH,!. death. 

So by our pen shall we achieve sweet peace — 

That peace so sweet which country grave-yard lulls. 

Our pen doth give to thy foul yells surcease 

It lavs ve out — ye bell'winfir Bashan bulls ! 

Our pen for ye creates a Slaughter-House 

*Tis on thine head — for ye did "Scorpio'' rouse ! 



32 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XXIX. 

No more shall raucous yells affront our Muse 

No more Hell ope and vomit her foul breath 

For to send ye our work shall we refuse 

From now until the day that brings thy death. 

A Prophet sans honour ever is at home — 

That's old as Christianity — pardie! 

So o'er this country broad shall our Muse roam 

Thus giving Gotham the "go-by" ye see. 

Our Muse is honoured in other States — 

New York's not the sole pebble on the beach — 

His gratitude the author hereby states 

To friendly papers whom these words may reach. 

To New York surely send we work no moTe 

Her wild-men critics do us sorely bore. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 33 



XXX. 

No quarrel have we with the rank and file — 

The millions who make Gotham's populace — 

For we were born on fair Manhattan's Isle — 

Thctt fairy Isle her neiuspapers disgrace! 

No. With her people we're in sympathy — 

We love their breadth and generosity — 

None give with swifter spontaneity 

And none view life with a more broader eye ! 

The people do we love — nay fight for them 

For eighteen years we've fought to purge their laws 

Which now are stench in nostrils of all men 

Because of their Hell-foul felonious flaws. 

'Tis with the rich the owners of her papers 

"Scorpio" swishes tail and cuts hot capers! 



34 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



XXXI. 

So now farewell ye filthy lousy curs — 

Ye yellow dogs that bark along our trail — 

Dealings with ye the author now abjures 

And smiling sees ye yelping turn thy tail. 

The working-man ye cannot e'er keep down — 

We are a working-man — our works prove that — 

Our vitriol shall e'en thy yelps deep drown 

And cause ye stop thy "talking thro' thine hat." 

In time we'll win our case and get our "pile" 

When we get that ye'll hear the welkin ring 

Our plays we'll stage upon Manhattan's Isle 

And hit the bull's-eye — make the same go 'yPingP^ 

They bridge the chasm of three hundred years 

And from the way they're writ might be Shakspeare's ! 

JOHN ARMSTRONG CHALONER, 

Richmond, Virginia, 
October Fifth, 1915. 
Done on the night of October fourth; upon receiving the reviews 
on "The Serpent Of Old Nile" in the New York Morning Telegraphy of 
September 28th, 1915, and the New York World of October 3d, 1915.— 
J. A. C. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 35 



New York World, October 3, 1915. 

AUTHOR OF "WHO'S LOONEY NOW?" WRITES BLANK 

\rERSE DRAMA. 



In "The Serpent Of Old Nile" Hephaestion and Caesar Engage in a 
Sword Duel for the Possession of Cleopatra, and as Hep. 
is About to Deliver a Knockout She Treacher- 
ously Stabs Him From Behind. 

But Caesar, So Far From Being Grateful, is Hon*ified and Berates 
Her as " Serpent to the Core " — Then Delivers This 
Ultimatum : " My Toy Thou'lt Be, or From Thy 
Throne Step Do^vn" — Sappho Com- 
mits Suicide. 

John Armstrong Chaloner, who by court decree is insane in New 
York and sane in Virginia, where he makes his home, has bobbed up 
agjain as an author. 

The most famous thing J. Armstrong ever penned, of course, is 
that telegraph message which he sent to his brother, "Sheriff Bob" 
Chanler of this city when Bob married Cavalleri, the singer, and soon 
thereafter was "left flat" by that beautiful person. The message was: 

"Who's looney now?" 

Then last year J. Armstrong (who has adopted the old-fashioned 
spelling of the family name) perpetrated upon the public a book of 
verses called "Scorpio," In which he stung the German Kaiser and 
William Randolph Hearst, though these two were not allied at the time, 
and other contemporary figures of interest. 

And now, still true to the snake theme, Mr. Chaloner presents a 
blank verse drama entitled "The Serpent Of Old Nile." The purport 
of the play, whose verse is very blank indeed, in spots, is set forth in 
a prologue called "The Sorceress," which runs thus: 

We now essay to paint a sorceress — 

The "Serpent Of Old Nile" of Anthony— 

That man-devouring-Sphlnx — Egypt's^ — none less 

Whom Shakspeare limned In divine alchemy! 

The task is dread — the task doth chill the heart — 

All -in the steps of Shakspeare thus to tread — 

Especially as herein plays the part 

Of lover Caesar, whom th' world held in dread, 

Especially since Cleopatra's tossed 

Upon the bosom of two passions dire — 

Love — whose fulfillment world-empire would cost 

Ambition — which holds forth the world's empire! 

'Twixt Caesar and the bold Hephaestion 

The sands of Fate's dark glass portentous run. 

"Listening to the divine alchemy" sounds like a task at once 
quaint and difficult, but Mr. Chaloner starts blithely forth by portray- 
ing a purple silk tent at Cleopatra's army headquarters on the outskirts 
of Alexandria, with Cleo asleep therein and the "bold Hephaestion," 
her Commander-in-Chief, pacing moodily without — that is, outside the 



36 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



tent. After a brief space Cleopatra calls "Ho!" and then appears at 
the flap. It appears that the General is enamoured of her. After some 
persiflage of the sort which usually takes place between a Queen and 
a General, Mr. Chaloner makes this situation develop: 

Heph.: "My Queen, vouchsafe one word — ^who's in thy tent? 

Who doth the royal pavilion share with thee? 
Cleo. : "Granted, my general. None but Sappho's here; 

My faithful friend and thine, too, I may say." 

Hesphaestion is indeed bold. He asks a moment later: 

"Pardon a soldier's bluntness, sweet my Queen; 
But if we win wilt thou deign marry me?" 

The Queen tells him — as Sheriff Bob Chanler might phrase it — 
"where he g;ets off at," and then: 

Cleo. (coldly): "As I have said, this interview is closed. 
Never dare broach that subject, sir, again!" 

It being necessary now for some "action" in the play, a runner 
appears and tips off the General that Caesar and his army are but six 
miles away. 

Heph. (aside) : "Caesar is a proved voluptuary 

That with his ambition e'er goes hand in hand — 
What if he fall to Cleopatra's charm? 

(Starting violently) — ^That doubt bites keener than a serpent's 
tooth!" 

Caesar, it appears, wants a conference with the Queen. Cleopatra 
doesn't know whether to grant it or not. She asks Hephaestion, and, in 
asking, reveals the curious fact that, though she's an Egyptian and the 
time of the action is 48 B. C, she is quite accomplished in the language 
of France. 

Cleo.: "Speak, my brave General; nought's done sans thee in war." 

Hephaestion reluctantly permits the approach of Caesar after this 
talk: 

Heph. : "They say the Roman likes the gentler sex ; 

That 's amours e'en are counted by the score." 

Cleo. (smiling): "So have I heard and so do full believe." 

Heph.: "Woulds't thou be one and twenty on the list?" 

Cleo. (frowning): "Sirrah, beware! You broadly trespass there!" 

Well, anyhow, Caesar meets the Queen, and the long, and short 
of the whole matter is that he, as Sheriff Bob would say, "cops her out." 

At the end of the third act — and the play — there comes a time 
when Hephaestion and Caesar fight a duel with swords for the posses- 
sion of Cleo., and, just as the bold Heph. is about to administer a knock- 
out stab, the fair mistress steps behind him and sticks him in the neck 
with her own spear, exlaiming: 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 37 



"So perish all who stand twixt me and fame!" 

But Caesar, who's not a bad sort after all, is horrified by this. He 
cuts loose: 

Caes.: "This self-same act wouldst thou enact 'gainst me 
At any time it did thy purpose suit. 
I know thee now — a serpent to the core! 
Now, hark, my Queen, unto thy pending doom: 
My toy thou'lt be — or — from thy throne — step down!" 

Now, Sappho, of whom little has been said in this review, has been 
secretly in love with the bold Hep. all this time. Upon his death she 
stabs herself with these brave lines: 

"I loved him but he did know it not. 

He loved thee, Cleopatra, loved thee, Queen, 

And knowing that, I would not stand between." 

The curtain descends with Caesar forcing the haughty and naughty 
Cleo. to bow before him and kiss his hand in homage — a toy, as Mr. 
Chaloner puts it, instead of a Queen. 

Caes. (solemnly) : "Thus is avenged the bold Hephaestion, 
And that sweet girl — who lov^ed him so well!" 

It may candidly be said that J. Armstrong has written a play 
which is entirely different from anything Shakespeare ever did. 



New York City Morning Telegraph, September 28, 1915. 

J. A. CHALONER NOW SHAKESPEARE'S RIVAL AS A 

PLAYWRIGHT. 

By Algernon St. John-Brenon. 

Mr. John Armstrong Chaloner, of Virginia, has turned poet. He 
has not concerned himself with the lower and more ignoble slopes of 
Parnassus. He has flown far and majestically above them, wishing to 
listen to the stately diction and the heaven-searching; wisdom of the 
muse Melpomene. 

He is not content with the achievement of being the author or 
the ascribed author of an immortal epigram, so he has put on for 
a while the mantle of the Tragic Three; crowning his lofty brow 
with bays, he somewhat loudly sweeps the strings of his ecstatic lyre. 
He publishes two tragedies. One is called "The Serpent Of Old Nile" 
and the other, like a modern problem-melodrama, "The Hazard of the 
Die." Both deal with the character of imperious Caesar. Now there 
is an epilogue to "The Hazard of the Die" containing a tremendous 
threat. Chorus tells us: 

"Pair reader, this grim play scarce but begins 
A chain of plays that equals Shakspeare's length. 
In saying this think not the Chorus sins 
We know our productivity and strength. 



38 ENGL.ISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TODATE 



Plays in blank verse wherein all History 

From most remotest times to Shakspeare's day — 

Before which date History's mystery 

After which date there's scarcely ought to say — 

Plays in blank verse wherein the action dread 

Of mighty men that held the world in awe 

Shall by the Muse in varied hues be spread 

With loves of women of beauty past all flaw! 

Prove now the tests we in the rear accord 

See spear of Shakspeare and fierce Marlowe's sword." 

MANY MORE PLAYS. 

Mr. Chaloner then will write more than thirty-six plays. He is 
certain of this. He knows his productivity and strength. This appall- 
ing series of dramas will deal with the "most remotest" history up 
to the age of Shakespeare. He maintains, as you see, though I cannot 
quite understand why, that history is a mystery before Shakespeare, 
and that after him "there's scarcely ought to say." So nothing much 
has happened in 300 years. Notice also that Mr. Chaloner undertakes 
to write blank verse. Well, he will have to learn much before he can 
make good his vaunt. At present his conception of the blank verse 
meter of tragedy is a huddled line of ten or eleven syllables com- 
pounded jauntily without regard to rhythm, melody or euphony. 

Here are some examples of his versification: 

"The Dictator Caesar craves a conference." 
"Whom Shakspeare limned in divine alchemy." 
"Awaits all soldiers v/ho sleep on their watch." 
"One worthy to sit throned upon the world." 
"Her dramatists, poets and philosophers." 
"The Dictator guessed true at his first guess." 

These lines, selected from the first few pages of "The Serpent Of 
Old Nile," are not blank verse at all. They are simply blank, very 
blank, and none too lucid prose. Considered as verse they creak like 
ungreased cartwheels. In the third example the crash of an accent on 
two words merely connective is of precious value as a terrible warning 
to the younger choir of bards. 

AN HOMERIC SIMPLICITY. 

I am compelled, however, to admire a certain simplicity, almost 
Homeric, in Mr. Chaloner's first tragedy. 

"The Serpent Of Old Nile" opens like "Hamlet," with a conversa- 
tion between two soldiers. They are outside Cleopatra's tent. Says 
one: 

My lord, if but the Queen should miss our tread. 
Each of us would swiftly lose his head. 

In general tone, Mr. Chaloner bases himself on Shakespeare, and 
the speeches of his heroes are interlarded with Shakespearian tags, 
old friends in strang,e surroundings — that is, he imitates that which 
is gratuitously imitable. We have the agreeable atmospheric particle 
"an," and even the sylvan and Jacobean preposition "sans." I suspect 
that Shakespeare used these terms because they were current in his 
day. I suspect that Mr. Chaloner uses them because they were current 
in Shakespeare's day. This is the difference between the natural and 
the affected. 



ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEJWERS UP-TO-DATE 39 



Certain lines in "Hamlet" gave the bard of Roanoke the inspira- 
tion for the following Aeschylean explosion: 

CLEOPATRA— 

"B^r-r-r thy polished methods lend to me a chill, 
A Hycran tiger, but no lover thou!" 

The personage who is "lent a chill" is none other than Cleopatra. 
It was scarcely in her torrid nature to welcome it. Note the poet's 
sudden translation from the easy chair of semi-slang to the throne of 
heroic diction; from b-r-r- and a chill to the Hycranian beast. This 
is versatility. Roanoke is dazed! 

RIMED COUPLETS. 

Another Shakespearian touch of Mr, Chaloner is to relieve his 
blank verse and point his moral with some rimed couplets. In one 
purple patch we have two together: 

CLEOPATRA— 

Both looks and tone may be but surface deep, 

None know what's in the heart — what dark thoughts sleep. 

SAPPHO— 
True my fair Queen, most true as general rule, 
But not when you men's feelings put to school. 

In another cerulean spot Mr. Chaloner writes "th' comparison." 
I should like to pronounce "the" at the beginning of a word. 

The tragedy involves the rival loves of Hephaestion and Julius 
Caesar for Cleopatra. It is a commonplace of literature to say that 
Shakespeare has drawn no very successful portrait of the greatest 
man the world has seen in his Julius Caesar. Mr. Chaloner, however, 
industriously improves. He makes Caesar say: 

Poetry ever was beyond my reach, 

I'm frank to say my verses are frank weak; 

So I, perforce, content myself with prose. 

Prose from my pen and prose from off my tongue. 

My learned readers will be pained to see that our bard makes the 
palpable spondee "frank weak" an imbus. This is syncopation, rag- 
time in verse. Where was Dicky when John twitched his mantle blue 
to such musical angularity as this? My duty to our tragic bard and 
candor to my readers demand that I should print some more of Julius 
Caesar's self-revelations. The soaring fancy of the ensuing is quite 
in the manner of Euripides. Cleopatra has told Caesar that there 
would be cold meat for dinner. One enjoys these domestic if non- 
Lucreatian details. 

CAESAR (smiling frankly) — 

Frankly, fair Queen all's one with me for that, 
I care not what I eat so that it be 
So cooked digestion gets no shock thereby. 
My health is not the strongest thing I have — 
Like sword of Damocles health hangs o'er me 
E'er threatening to descend and mar my work 
Hinder and balk me of my fruits of toil. 
And no man ever since this world began 



40 ENGL.ISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS UP-TO-DATE 



Was forced to fiercer strive for what he won. 

Thy choice of viands cold for th' feast here spread 

Jumps with my soldier's humor perfectly. 

For often have I eat my victuals cold 

Upon the march or after victory. 

For after victory there's so much to do 

I ne'er could find a cook could furnish me 

With any fit to eat — so long I kept 

The rascal waiting on emergencies 

CLEOPATRA— 

These oysters which my slaves do now bring on 
Are thought the best along all Afric's coast 
Small, but less bitter than your Roman kind. 

(Caesar Tries One with his Fork. The Anachronism of Forks is 
Braved to Avoid the Barbaric Appearance — to Modern Eyes at Least — 
of Eating With the Pingers.) 

This pleasing address of Caesar, this piece of g,astronomic autobi- 
ography, gives us not only a taste of Mr. Chaloner as a tragic poet, 
but it also casts some clear light on his conception of humor, rhetoric, 
syntax and grammar. One is particularly solicitous to know how 
health could descend and mar anyone's work, or how a man's own 
health could be his sword of Damocles. Mr. Chaloner has written a 
play called "Scorpio." This one is called "The Serpent." Let Mr. 
Chaloner be fraternal and still zoological and write a pastoral called 
"The Giraffe." Then his brother the artist-sheriff and painter and en- 
cruster of those stately animals would be delighted. Great artists 
should cling together. 



TJie Virginian, Richmond, Va., September 29, 1915. 

" THE SERPENT OF OLD NILE," MASTERPIECE. 



John Armstrong Chaloner Produces Sequel to "The Hazard Of 
The Die." Deals With Caesar. 

Following close upon the heels of his "The Hazard of the Die," 
John Armstrong Chaloner has written a three-act drama, "The Serpent 
Of Old Nile," which he terms a sequel to the other in that both plays 
treat of the same epoch and the same man — Julius Caesar. In the 
former he is shown as a young man when he was scheming for power 
and in the later effort he is depicted as the man of maturer years, who 
has achieved power. In "The Serpent Of Old Nile" Mr. Chaloner essays 
to paint a sorceress and her wiles and probably not even Shakespeare 
himself would be ashamed to claim what the "Master of Merry Mills," 
who is a past master of English as it is written, has put forth in blank 
verse. It should have a stage production and with intelligent inters 
pretation would make a hit. 

The book has been issued by the Palmetto Press, of Roanokei 
Rapids, N. C., in paper cover at fifty cents. 



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